


then it settles to quietude

by witching



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 22:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching/pseuds/witching
Summary: "Neither Rose nor the Doctor could pinpoint when he got in the habit of joining her in bed, those times when he did need to sleep; it was a smooth and effortless transition, unspoken and uncontested. Somewhere along the way, there was another shift in their relationship, and their bedroom activities were no longer confined to sleeping. Most often, though, they preferred comfortably lying together, their limbs entangled, and talking about whatever popped into their minds until they could no longer keep their eyes open."





	then it settles to quietude

**Author's Note:**

> you are breathing  
> patiently; it is a  
> beautiful sound. it is  
> your life, which is so close  
> to my own that I would not know  
> where to drop the knife of  
> separation. and what does this have to do  
> with love, except  
> everything? now the fire rises  
> and offers a dozen, singing, deep-red  
> roses of flame. then it settles  
> to quietude, or maybe gratitude, as it feeds  
> as we all do, as we must, upon the invisible gift:  
> our purest, sweet necessity: the air.  
> // mary oliver, thirst
> 
> prompt on tumblr from _a softer world_ : "we talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)"

Sleeping on the TARDIS was always a bit of a crapshoot, given the nebulous nature of time and the constant adventures and the fact that the Doctor had a tendency to forget that humans needed to rest. Not often, just every once in a while, Rose would have to tap him on the shoulder and politely tell him that he'd done a brilliant job saving whatever or whomever he'd just saved, but she really would need to recoup before being dropped into another life-or-death situation. 

"I could just stay back, if you want to go do something," she told him the third or fourth time it happened. "You don't have to put your life on hold so I can have a nap."

He stared at her, quite disarmingly, his brows drawn together in the picture of confusion. "Wouldn't be any fun on my own," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe, that he wouldn't want to go anywhere without her. "Besides," he added brightly, "I sleep too, sometimes. Just not as much."

Rose smiled to herself, satisfied with the answer. "Alright, then," she conceded. "Long as you're not wasting away from boredom while I'm getting my beauty sleep."

"I am most definitely not," he assured her, and that was that. 

It quickly became a routine for them, after the first several reminders, where the TARDIS would provide a gentle nudge when Rose was flagging, and they would stop and rest for a bit. Sometimes the Doctor would sleep, others he would tinker like a mechanic or read a book or meditate until Rose woke up.

Neither Rose nor the Doctor could pinpoint when he got in the habit of joining her in bed, those times when he did need to sleep; it was a smooth and effortless transition, unspoken and uncontested. Somewhere along the way, there was another shift in their relationship, and their bedroom activities were no longer confined to sleeping. Most often, though, they preferred comfortably lying together, their limbs entangled, and talking about whatever popped into their minds until they could no longer keep their eyes open. 

It was one of these times – they couldn't rightly call it nighttime, or any time at all, they simply slept when they were tired because day and night were meaningless – but it was one of these times when Rose, on the edge of sleep, had a thought.

"D'you think…" she trailed off, burying her face further in the Doctor's chest, not so much embarrassed as deciding that it wasn't worth the energy.

The Doctor, endless well of curiosity, didn't let it go so easily. "What?"

"Never mind."

"No, what were you going to say?" He sat up slightly, tightening his arm around her, the movement prompting her to look up at his face.

"Nothing," she mumbled, "it's stupid."

The Doctor smiled. "Oh, but I _love_ stupid," he said in complete earnest. "The stupider the better, I always say."

Rose rolled her eyes at him, but returned his smile easily. "I was just wondering – really I was letting my mind drift away, and I just thought…"

"Rose," the Doctor said with a feigned urgency, "the suspense is killing me."

She took a deep breath, gave a shake of her head, a chuckle at her own silly imagination, looked down and away. "I was wondering, d'you think there are alien cultures out there where, er… what we have, you and me… would constitute marriage?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah, loads," replied the Doctor, as unaffected as if she'd asked about the weather. "Yes, customs vary more than you'd expect. Vega Six, for instance – their version of what _you'd_ call marriage is – well, it's quite the complex ritual for them, but for a human, rather easy to do accidentally."

"What is it?"

"They smile at each other."

Rose beamed up at him. "Well, that's something," she said, amused. "But I mean, if we look at it from the human perspective –,"

"You're a human," the Doctor pointed out.

"Yes, I know that," Rose snapped, giving him a playful shove in the chest. "I mean from the human perspective at large, or at least the English perspective, well, they'd think we'd been together for 4,999,998,144 years."

"Really?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her. "How so?"

"From 1879 all the way to five billion and twenty-three," Rose explained patiently.

"That was some quick maths," the Doctor said, impressed.

Rose snorted. "I have many hidden talents," she muttered dryly. "Anyway, the point is, I think that constitutes a common law marriage."

The Doctor nodded sagely, and hummed a thoughtful little noise. "I would think… it could be spun that way, yes." He turned to see her face better, frowning. "Why the focus on marriage all of a sudden?"

There was a long moment of not-quite-silence, a ringing open wound of a moment, and then Rose released a breath. "It's nothing, really," she answered faintly. "I was just wondering, just thinking, you know?"

"Do you want that?" The Doctor asked, almost inaudibly. He allowed the words to dissolve in the air before clarifying, "Regular human marriage, I mean?"

"Nothing with you is regular," Rose said with a delicate laugh, almost as if she were afraid to offend. "I don't need a regular human marriage, not with you."

"Really?" The Doctor peered deep into her, his brown eyes wide open and full of longing and admiration. "Because you can have it," he breathed earnestly, "if that's what you want."

Rose tilted her head up, leaned a bit to press her face into his neck, humming in satisfaction and inhaling the scent of him. "No, no, I don't," she murmured lightly. "I know I'm with you forever, and you know I'm with you forever, right?"

The Doctor smiled, closed his eyes and pulled her closer into his side. "Right."

"And it's more complicated, I think, than a certificate or a license could contain."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Rose pressed a kiss into his pulse point, then stretched up to kiss the corner of his lips, smiling against his skin. "But then again, it's not complicated at all," she murmured gently, leaning her forehead against his. "Easy as breathing, isn't it, you and me?"

The Doctor took a deep inhale, as if to demonstrate her point, then let it out slowly, an elongated, contented sigh. He let the feeling linger in the air for a long moment, focusing on Rose pressed against the length of his side, Rose wonderfully close to him, cataloguing the feel and the smell and the sweet calm of the moment before he agreed, "Easy as breathing."


End file.
